“I have no professional experience,” he told me from across the table, “but I’m pretty good in the kitchen.”
“So I heard,” Toni quipped with a teasing grin.
I jabbed her in the ribs with an elbow and smiled at him. “Don’t worry, Jake. I feel lucky to be partnered with you.”
“How soon do we need this menu?” Charles asked. “Do we have a deadline?”
“ASAP,” Toni replied.
“I’m going to have to do some research,” I said.
Toni chuckled. “You know what they say, ‘Whatever you cook, just use plenty of garlic. You can eat the New York Times with enough garlic.’”
I glanced at my watch. Eleven o’clock. Hours had gone by in a flash. No wonder I was exhausted. “I vote we call it a day and reconvene tomorrow.” Now that I was faced with the reality of the project, I felt a bit overwhelmed. Making low-calorie salad was one thing, but creating an entire meal without butter and cream would be a challenge.
there’s no diet like
the heartbreak diet
The days flew by, working on recipe after recipe, and for a time I was almost able to forget about murderers and jail. I searched for interesting ingredients, spending so much time at St. Lawrence Market that vendors now knew me by name.
“Hey, Nicky,” an old timer called. The man had a farm north of the city and grew the most wonderful organic vegetables. “I have some lovely portobello mushrooms. Come take a look.”
I picked up a giant mushroom the size of a dinner plate.
“Imagine that baby, grilled with garlic and served on a bun.”
More like three or four buns, I thought, looking them over. I bought a few pounds, and moved on. By the time I left, my basket was filled to the brim.
* * *
We were getting ready to close after a long day. The staff had left. Toni, of course, was standing around sipping sparkling wine while I finished cleaning up the kitchen. My back was sore, my hands looked like prunes—maybe I should have borrowed Toni’s marabou-trimmed rubber gloves—and all I really wanted to do was crawl into bed.
It was now nearly a month since Rob had died. Concentrating on creating a new skinny menu was a lifesaver for me. I was still sane. In fact, I could hardly believe how much my feelings had evolved over such a short time. I still thought about Rob and our relationship often, but rather than deploring his cheating, I was seeing the mistakes I’d made, and was trying to learn from them.
Over the past few months of our relationship, there had been so many signs, so many clear indications that Rob wasn’t in love with me. Yet I’d refused to look at them. As Toni said, “Denial is not just a river in Egypt.” Acknowledging this had not been easy, but it had released me in some ways.
I still shed the odd tear. But, to my surprise, they were more for the loss of the illusion than for the loss of a boyfriend. As callous as this might sound, since coming to this conclusion, I’d been sleeping much better.
The man I’d loved had cheated on me. He’d broken my heart. As far as I was concerned, it was far healthier for me to move on than to remain stuck in the pain. I was moving on, wasn’t I? Sometimes I wasn’t so sure. Until his murder was solved, I doubted I could completely leave the past behind.
The restaurant had seen a small increase in regular customers, but not enough to keep us out of the red. Strangely, this no longer seemed to worry Toni in the least. She walked around humming happily, her repartee no longer as sharp. She seemed mellower and nicer. Something was definitely up with her, and I couldn’t help but believe it had something to do with Steven.
“I feel awful,” I told her, trying to weasel the information out of her. “I wish I hadn’t told Steven about you being at Mona’s that night.”
“You had to do what you had to do,” Toni replied without rancor. She took another sip.
“Still, I know you were hoping that you and he…”
“Don’t be ridiculous. When a man leaves you for another woman, then wants to come back, there is no better revenge than to let him beg.”
“Is he begging?” I asked, almost holding my breath.
“Oh, shit. I just spilled some wine on my dress,” she exclaimed, changing the subject once again. A moment later, she was off to the washroom.
I didn’t worry about Toni. Even if it didn’t work out for her and Steven, she’d be fine. That woman had more fortitude than anyone I knew. She had, however, been pushing me to socialize again.
“Tonight, after closing, I’m taking you out. It’ll be good for you,” she said, coming back in. “I won’t take no for an answer. I don’t have a date. Let’s go out for a drink.”
“Honestly, Toni, that’s about the last thing in the world I feel like doing,” I told her as I grabbed my bag and headed for the door.
Toni planted her hands on her hips and gave me her I-won’t-take-no-for-an-answer look. “It’s about time you rejoined the living, Nicky. You are coming out and that is final. If not tonight, then tomorrow.”
One thing I should have known by now was that it was impossible to say no to Toni.
* * *
Normally the lounge of the Drake Hotel was jam-packed after six. Businessmen relaxing over a drink—or six, old friends catching up, ladies-who-shop playing a game of show-and-tell over cocktails, and singles eyeing the room for that elusive animal called “the perfect mate.” However, when Toni and I walked in the next evening, the place was almost deserted. No more than half a dozen patrons were relaxing in areas around the bar.
“Geez, reminds me of our place,” Toni said. “That’s about the same number of customers we get most nights. Maybe we’re not doing so badly after all.”
“I like coming here on Monday nights for exactly that reason. It’s not too crowded.” Not to mention it was the only night Skinny’s on Queen was closed.
At that moment, one lonely lounge lizard was leaning against the bar along the far wall. He gave Toni and me the up-and-down with a suggestive leer. Toni, city chic in a zebra-print silk top and shrink-wrap-tight black capri pants, gave him a haughty stare, willing him to turn away.
“God knows I love men, but puh-lease, save me from barflies.” She arranged herself into one of the plush chairs. “He, on the other hand,” she drawled, channeling a Southern belle, “is divine.”
I turned and found myself looking at Mitchell, my neighbor, who was watching me with an amused expression.
“I guess,” I replied, noncommittal.
Mitchell grinned and waved. I felt myself blushing as I smiled back self-consciously.
Toni tossed back her hair and sent him a come-hither look. “Oh, he is cute. I like a man who looks like a man,” she said, then stopped and squinted. “Isn’t that…”
“Yes,” I replied, grudgingly. “That’s my neighbor.”
“Mmm-mmm. Now that is a yummy neighbor. I only caught a glimpse of him once, and I’d almost forgotten how good-looking he is.” She looked back at me, her eyes alight. “He’s trying to get your attention,” she whispered. “Why aren’t you flirting back?”
“Stop it. You’re embarrassing me.”
She gazed at me with delight. “Why, I believe you like the man.”
“Absolutely not. I mean, he’s nice enough. I’m grateful to him for helping me search for Jackie.”
Toni waved away my objections with a knowing smile. “As Shakespeare said, ‘The lady doth protest too much.’”
Before I could retort, the waiter materialized with a bowl of cashews, which he set in front of me. He must have recalled that I devoured two full bowls the last time I was here. Then I remembered that Rob had been with me that night, and a wave of sadness swept over me. Guess the grieving wasn’t as finished as I’d thought.
“And what can I get you ladies?” he asked with a flouri
sh.
Toni made a big production of thinking it over. “Bring over a pitcher of sour-apple martinis,” she ordered, grandly.
“A pitcher?” he repeated, surprised.
“She means a shaker,” I explained.
“Very good,” he said and started to walk away.
“Hold on a second,” Toni called out after him. She turned to me. “Nicky, what would you like?”
The waiter caught the amusement in my eyes and played along. “Should I make that two pitchers, ladies? Or would you prefer buckets?”
“Buckets, by all means.” Toni laughed. “Everybody knows that alcohol is a great preservative. I plan to preserve my looks for as long as I can.” At the waiter’s look of confusion, she explained. “I’m talking science here. Cherries preserved in port last forever, so—”
“Don’t listen to my friend. She’s a lush,” I said. “One shaker. Two glasses.”
“Wise decision.” He smiled and walked away.
Toni turned to me. “Speaking of preserving one’s looks, you’re looking mighty fine today. Better than I’ve seen you look in a long time. I like that outfit on you.”
“This?” I looked down at myself in surprise. I was wearing a pistachio linen dress I hadn’t worn since last year.
“Does that have anything to do with that cute neighbor?”
“No, of course not,” I answered quickly. “It’s only because I’ve been sleeping better.”
“Ah, yes, sleeping.” She winked at me.
“Toni, stop it.” Much to my embarrassment, I felt myself blushing. I darted a quick glance toward the bar, and to my relief, Mitchell was looking away. Beet red was not my shade. The best defense being a good offense, I went for it. “Actually, while we’re on the subject of sleeping—” I used my eyebrows to punctuate the word, “—care to tell me what’s going on between you and Steven?”
She ignored my question. She didn’t even blush. Without missing a beat, she continued. “Well, it’s good to see you back to your old self, or rather—” her eyes traveled from my head to my toes and back up again, “—to half your old self. How much weight have you lost?”
“You think I lost weight?”
Toni scrutinized me closer. “I see you nearly every day. That’s probably why I didn’t notice until now, but you’ve lost a ton of weight.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I mean it as a compliment.”
I harrumphed. It was true that my clothes weren’t as tight lately. I looked down. My dress wasn’t bursting at the seams. “I haven’t weighed myself in ages. Not since the—the night of the party.” I smiled. “I guess there’s no diet like the heartbreak diet.”
“And you’re wearing makeup. And doing your hair. Yep, you’re definitely on the mend.”
The waiter arrived with a large shaker of martinis. He set the glasses on the table and poured the drinks. I used the distraction to glance toward the bar again. The stool where Mitchell had been sitting only a minute ago was now empty. I glanced furtively around the room, but he was nowhere. He’s gone. To my dismay, I recognized my unrest as disappointment.
“In life,” Toni said, lifting her glass, “a person is either the hammer or the nail.”
I waited for the punch line.
“The decision is, would we rather get hammered or get nailed?”
I burst out laughing. When I stopped, I lifted my glass and made my own toast. “To health and happiness.”
“You are so boring.” Toni downed half her glass, then leaned in and whispered, “Don’t look now, but he’s looking this way. Now tell me the truth. You like him, don’t you?”
“I do not,” I exclaimed, once again feeling the color rise to my face. So Mitchell’s back. I fought the urge to turn and look.
“He really is cute.”
“Toni, please. He’ll think we’re talking about him.”
“We are talking about him. Oh look, he’s coming over.”
“Oh, shit!” Before I could stop myself, I swiveled to look and, sure enough, Mitchell was heading straight this way. I quickly finger-combed my hair and smoothed out my skirt.
“Hello, ladies,” he said when he reached the table. Then he looked at me. “I haven’t seen you in a while. How’s my favorite Yorkie these days? No more encounters with skunks, I hope.”
My heart was doing a tap dance in my chest. I forced a chuckle. “No, thank goodness. That was, I hope, a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”
Mitchell stood there. I stared at him, tongue-tied, until he relieved me of my awkwardness. “Well, it was nice running into you again.”
“Please join us,” said Toni in a voice that sounded like a purr.
Mitchell glanced at me and hesitated. He shook his head. “I have to go. I have an early appointment tomorrow.” He nodded goodbye and walked away.
“Why didn’t you ask him to join us?” Toni whispered when he was far enough.
“I—I…”
Toni sighed impatiently.
“Too late now,” I said and abruptly changed the subject. “I think we should look into this Harry Johnson guy,” I announced.
“You can’t be serious. You’re still talking about playing detective after what happened to Mona? I was hoping you’d forgotten about all that nonsense. If we had walked in during the murder we could have been killed. This whole idea is stupid. Listen to me. You have to leave it to the police.”
“I want to look into the drug angle more closely. Those pill bottles I found have to mean something.”
She reasoned with me. “We have no idea what kind of pills were in those bottles. For all we know, they could have been vitamins.”
I rolled my eyes. “Come on, Toni. Be real. What are the odds those were innocent little vitamin pills?”
“I agree,” she answered. “But how are we supposed to prove it? Let the police do their job. Me, I’m out of it. Besides, if the motive was drugs, the murderer could be anyone.”
She had a point. I was tempted to admit that I’d even suspected her at one point, but I kept that to myself. “As I’ve said a thousand times, I won’t hold my breath waiting for the cops,” I declared fiercely. “They won’t lift a finger to help me. And don’t think for one second that just because they know I didn’t kill Mona, that they’ve automatically dropped me as a suspect in Rob’s murder.”
“You’re right.”
She agreed? Now that shocked me. “Why do you say that? Has Steven said anything?”
“Only that until the case is solved, you’re not off the hook.” She sipped her martini, set it down and then added, “I didn’t want to tell you this but it seems the cops are becoming impatient to solve the case. They’re actively looking for some reason to arrest you.”
Dread washed over me. “Actively?”
She nodded. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”
“See what I mean? Unless I find out who did it, I’m still at risk of spending my life in jail.”
“You’ll only get me into trouble again.”
I leaned forward. “You don’t have to get involved. But the way I see it, I’m damned if I do, but I’m really damned if I don’t. So I might as well do. I think it’s high time I had a little chat with Harry Johnson.”
“You promised Steven you’d stay out of it.”
“Same goes for you,” I retorted, as in “Who gives a shit?” rather than “Maybe you’re right.”
She pursed her mouth and tapped her Chanel-red nails on the marble tabletop. “That’s it,” she exclaimed as her face lit up. “Not even Steven can fault you for keeping in touch with your old friends, can he?”
Where was she going with this?
“If you were to invite Rob’s coworkers to, say, a casual dinner, that would be all right, wouldn’t it?
”
“You want me to throw a dinner party? How’s a party going to help?”
She shrugged. “It’s surprising how much a person can learn just by chatting over dinner—that’s if you invite the right people.” Without waiting for my reply, she continued. “We should start working on that guest list right now.”
the six-feet-under kind of trouble
Later, as Toni and I walked to my place, where she had left her car, I played our plan over in my mind.
“For the record,” Toni insisted, “what we’re doing isn’t snooping, at least not in the true sense of the word. After all, it is normal that you should want to stay in touch with people you consider friends.”
I nodded.
“Anyhow, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.” Her voice was slightly slurry.
“The one person I really want to speak to is Gordon Page,” I said. “He worked with Rob for two years. Of all the people at the hospital, he’s probably the one who was closest to Rob. If anything illegal was going on, he might have seen something.”
“What about Harry Johnson? He’s our suspect.”
“I wish I didn’t have to talk to him. But I’m convinced he was the skinny guy Jake saw with Rob. Of course I have to invite him—even though he scares me.”
“Of course the man scares you. We think he’s killed twice.”
“I hate the idea of him in my home.”
“I suspect he’s already been in your house.”
“You’re probably right,” I grumbled. “As long as I invite as many of Rob’s coworkers as I can, I’ll be surrounded by people and I’ll be safe. And with so many guests, I can steer the conversation without it seeming like an interrogation.”
She hiccupped. “Completely safe.”
As we rounded the corner onto Shaw, Toni pulled her car keys out of her purse. I snatched them from her.
“Hey…”
“No way I’m letting you drive after the number of drinks you’ve had. Either you stay over at my place or I call you a cab.”
Ten minutes later, Toni climbed into a taxi, and I marched off to bed followed by a strangely listless Jackie.
Getting Skinny Page 18